…
…
…
Dependents, my words are for you, and you alone.
Born am I,
The intersection of life and order,
Much am I solemn,
For the intersection I destroy,
A pestilence to prosperity,
Under the guise of a cure.
∟[Primordial Soul]
──────────────────────
Terell lay blissfully asleep on his bed as Jett fiddled with the black talisman in his hand.
"Seriously?" Jett reprimanded Valeria, who began to stretch after being frozen for hours.
"You didn't say I couldn't rough him up," she shrugged. "But I'm glad to see you. Honestly, I would probably be dead without you."
"Speaking of, what happened here?" Jett asked, walking with Valeria out of the room and into the open tavern.
He motioned towards the destroyed tavern, giving a confused glare that demanded answers.
"Well, this guy was the owner of these two big guys who had a bunch of lackeys that tried to lead me into a dark corner and tie me up. After I killed them, the criminals just kept coming, eventually leading me to him," Valeria explained. "What happened with you?"
They walked down the stairs as the talked, stepping into the main hall of the tavern.
He retold getting lost, going tavern to tavern for information regarding underground work as a means to gain the money to smuggle himself into the Upper City.
Jett also briefly described his experiences with Lysell's Procurements, the Cartographer.
However, he did decide to gloss over his shakedown of a small child as well as Toze the Dominator. It just seemed more convenient.
Valeria wasn't entirely invested but was still invested to nod her head as he retold the experiences of the past two days.
Jett stepped over a few bodies as he made his way to the tavern door, the pools of blood soaking into the wood floors.
However, Valeria trailed off.
"What are you doing? Come with me, I need to return this talisman to the Troupe," Jett called out to Valeria.
Behind the bar counter, Valeria reached under, grabbing a bottle of whiskey before sending it down the hatch.
All Jett did was stare in disappointment.
"What?" she said in confusion. "Haven't eaten, drunken, or shit in 18 hours."
"Alcohol will only make you more thirsty. There's food and water at the tavern I'm staying at on the East side, come on."
Valeria rolled her eyes as she began to follow him towards the door.
"I'm still amazed you got a job so quickly."
"Well I couldn't exactly rely on finding you, had to figure something out," Jett said. "Are you going to admit now that this whole excursion to the Lower City was stupid?"
Valeria rubbed her chin in thought.
"No," she replied. "Okay, it was stupid for you. I killed my share of criminals."
"Selfish."
Jett opened the tavern door.
…
WHOOSH
…
His eyes turned wide in fright.
A steel arrow whizzed past Jett's head in a blur.
Valeria had managed to nudge him out of the arrow's path.
She immediately sprung into action, slamming the door close and taking up cover by its side.
'Enemies!'
It took Jett a moment to recover, but he similarly took up safety by the door.
The two stared at each other in silence as they tried to ascertain their enemy.
"TERELL! Get out here!" a man's voice boomed outside the tavern. "The High Lords have come to collect what is owed!"
Jett's heart began to pound as realization set in.
Frantic footsteps resounded behind him as Terell ran out, peering from the second floor.
"Shit! It's High Lord Ekblad!" Terell exclaimed. "Please, you two have to help me. Aren't you with the Troupe? Protect me! I can't pay them back if I'm dead!"
Jett and Valeria looked over to the fearful Terell before looking at one another, silently deliberating.
'Debt accumulating scumbag…'
"Just how strong is this Ekblad?" Valeria inquired, peering out of the hole Jett made in the door.
"I-I think he's an Acolyte, but the High Lords also have—"
"Terell! In my hand is an explosive artifact that will destroy your miserable business. To my sides are a dozen High Lords ready to put down any foolish resistance," Ekblad's commanding voice reverberated through the walls. "I know you have hired protection with you. And if you have hired help, that means you have plenty of wealth to spend trying to protect yourself from the tribute…"
Valeria leaned her head closer to Jett before whispering.
"I don't think we can take out that many men. Not in this position."
'Guess I was right about Terell looking for protection from gangs, but now what? What do I do?'
"…We will spare the sellswords, so long as they offer no resistance. If you resist, I'll throw this artifact inside and pry the debts from your ashes," Ekblad warned.
"We gotta bail, Jett."
"Please! You have to help."
"Come on out, Terell! Final warning."
Voices rapidly battered his rattled mind.
Options. So many options for Jett. It was overwhelming.
His mind churned out scenarios, paths, and possibilities.
All were analyzed through the lens of his own outcome.
…
A choice.
"Alright. I have a plan," he whispered to Valeria.
Terell looked shaken and tentative far off the side, pacing anxiously as he stared at his two potential saviors.
"Please tell me you can do it…" the tavern owner asked in solemn.
"Quiet," Valeria snapped, trying to listen to Jett's plan.
After that, everything was in order.
With the talisman in his hands, Jett put the black necklace around his neck.
Nodding to Valeria, she gently opened the door.
"It's the sellswords. We're coming out," Jett yelled out to the High Lords.
"No! Where are you going?" Terell said in disbelief.
With their hands held in the air, Jett and Valeria stepped out front of the tavern.
A dozen men surrounded them with swords drawn, with their leader Ekblad in the center.
Ekblad was old and rugged, his face scarred and smug, covered in lavish steel armor lined with beast furs.
In one arm he held a crossbow. In the other, he held a strange black ball.
'The explosive artifact…'
"All we request is safe passage," Jett announced, his gaze firmly placed on the High Lord's leader.
"Fell for it. Fools…" Ekblad muttered.
As he went to aim his crossbow, however…
Both Ekblad and Jett were completely frozen.
"K-kill them!" the shocked Ekblad barked to his men.
The gangsters screamed as they charged forward, swords raised.
They didn't arrive in time to do any damage, however.
Valeria's left arm glowed a radiant white, the color piercing through the sleeve of her leather armor
Then…
BOOOOOM…
An explosive blast covered everything in front of the tavern, kicking up a cloud of dust, dirt, and muck.
Along with the fiery smoke generated by the blast, everything was shrouded in grey.
Amidst the chaos, Valeria grabbed Jett by the wrist, breaking him free of the talisman's hold.
Then they ran.
Men coughed and shouted as they tried to swat the smoke away.
By the time the wind swept away the smokescreen away, the sellswords were nowhere to be found.
"They ran off, ignore them. Tear this building apart," Ekblad ordered. "And bring Terell to me."
The recovered High Lords quickly stormed the tavern.
Terell pleaded in terror, his screams reverberating throughout the emptied town square as he was dragged out by two of Ekblad's lackeys.
The tavern owner—plunged into various debts—was left to the mercy of Ekblad, the merciless gang leader of the High Lords.
But Jett and Valeria had escaped to live another day.
***
The crime-fighting duo ran several blocks East, though they quickly realized that the High Lords had no intention of giving chase, especially outside of their territory.
Crowds of normal people returned to the periphery of the pair's vision, contrasting the empty streets surrounding the town square.
Normal people could do nothing against the Soul power that the Lower City gangs held. As such, they had to tolerate it by keeping their heads low, avoiding the powers above them.
Yet the Storm Wardens did little to stop such activities, only stepping in to prevent total anarchy when need be.
The reality of life for the weak was a familiar, sad story. One that Jett was quite intimate with from his days in Shacktown.
These systems were intricately designed to suppress the ladder's climb, cementing the weak as the foundation upon which the strong stood.
But Jett stood in limbo between weak and strong.
Too strong to ignore their plight, but too weak to make true impact on a large scale.
He was only on the first few pegs of the ladder. But he wanted to jump ahead.
At least it would give him options. Being powerless did not.
Jett and Valeria walked through the tight streets of East Lower City, walking towards the tavern where Jett had stayed prior.
"I just realized," Jett brought up. "What's gonna stop one of us from getting lost and stranded here again?"
"Dunno," Valeria replied in a half-lucid stupor.
'She hasn't slept in a while.'
"At least hold onto me before you fall asleep in the streets."
"Smooth."
"Not like that."
Valeria put her arms on Jett's shoulders like an elderly using a walker.
Slowly strolling through the small streets, he eventually navigated his way to the tavern.
Jett paid the owner for another day of room and board, who accepted gladly, though with a strange face.
'I guess walking in with an intoxicated woman isn't the best look…'
He brought Valeria upstairs, laying her on the bed before going back downstairs.
Jett got a plate of food and water, headed back to his room, and placed it on the nightstand as the sleeping Valeria now snored.
'Now that those obligations are over with…'
***
"Answer the call, seek the flame."
Lysell complied, opening the wall up.
Jett entered the dark tunnel. The door at the end revealed not the Cartographer's studio but the grey circus world that belonged to the Troupe.
Mask on, he walked through the central commercial area, passing a few fully robed and masked beings who seemed to be browsing the Troupe's wares.
Jett made his way to Toze's small abode on the outskirts, entering.
Toze the Dominator was lying flat on his back in his empty tent as Jett stood over him.
'No bed, pillow, blanket. Nothing? Guess he takes wisdom two pretty seriously.'
"Uh, Toze, the job is done. I have the talisman."
…
Jett lightly tapped Toze's metal armor with his boot.
Toze's long neck jolted upward, heavy breaths leaking out of his armor's eye slit.
…
The eye slit slowly turned to Jett's judgemental eyes.
"Wisdom… fifty-five," the small mutant said in between breaths. "Do not wake the sleeping beast, for it will TEAR YOUR LEG OFF."
Toze lurched with both of his stubby arms towards Jett's leg.
Reactively, Jett took a single step back, resulting in Toze missing, now lying on his armor's round stomach.
"I need payment. Though, I feel I should tell you—"
"No need. Leave me. Karmiris will do it. Her tent is red. Now go."
Jett rolled his eyes before complying.
'I wanna go home…'